


The Perfect Host

by smolbean17



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove & Eleven | Jane Hopper Friendship, Billy Hargrove Deserves Better, Billy Hargrove Has Powers, Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Blood, Child Abuse, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Friendship, Exorcism, F/M, Good Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Good Sibling Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Hurt Billy Hargrove, Hurt Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jim Hopper Lives, Mind Flayer POV, Minor Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Neil Hargrove’s A+ parenting, Post Battle of Starcourt, Post S3, Protective Eleven | Jane Hopper, Protective Joyce Byers, Protective Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Protective Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Showers, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, possessed Billy Hargrove
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26050684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolbean17/pseuds/smolbean17
Summary: “Want a drink before we start?” He held the bottle in Billy’s line of sight. The teen cracked his eyes open.“Don’t think I can keep it down.” His voice was barely above a whisper. But it was better than nothing. He needed to stay awake.“If you’re sure,” Hopper took another swig. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”“Always does.”
Comments: 19
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WOW it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything. I’m hopping back into the creative bandwagon. ALL my current fics WILL be updated, I just had to get this one off my chest. Stay tuned! This is will be one hell of a ride lol.

The Shadow waited. Waited for someone to come his way. In the meantime, the rodents served as the perfect company. That is, until he took their bodies to create his own material one. 

It wasn’t enough. He needed more. Many more. The vermin wouldn’t be enough. He needed more puppets. But more importantly, he needed a Host. The Host would bring him puppets. The Host would do his bidding. The perfect servant. 

Then he could find Her. 

So the Shadow waited. 

While he waited, he remembered. He remembered his first Host. The young child. Oh what a trouble he was. 

The Shadow wanted a young Host. Impressionable. Naive. 

How unfortunate that the child’s progenitor had to become so involved. Such a nuisance. Such an inconvenience. 

The child had far too many... people. People who knew him. People who cared. People who tried to help him. 

Too many people. 

The Shadow wouldn’t make that mistake again. 

He sensed something coming. 

A machine. And inside the machine, a person. A potential Host? Maybe. Or perhaps a disposable puppet. He would investigate. 

His material self did the work. The machine was stopped. Out stumbled a young one. Older than the child. But still young. Male. 

Angry.

The boy was alone. And that, the Shadow reasoned, made the perfect candidate. 

He took the youth, dragged him into the Secret Place. He latched onto him. He saw into his mind. His life. 

Light. Love. Family. Happiness. Growth. Uncertainty. Fear. Pain. Anger. Loneliness. 

This boy had no people. The Shadow sensed it. The boy knew it himself. He was completely alone.

No one to interfere with the Plan. 

This boy was similar to the child Host. They shared the same name. The same uncertainty. The same fear. Even the abandonment of one of their progenitors. But there was one monumental difference.

No one cared about Billy Hargrove. 

The perfect Host.


	2. Chapter 2

“Billy!” Max screamed, as the clawed tentacles ripped into her brother’s body. 

Billy cried out, and more limbs of rotten viscera followed, piercing his back, stomach, and sides.

The monster brought its host into a kneeling position, it’s wretched growl a menacing echo as it stared him down. 

Max witnessed her brother’s last act of defiance as he screamed into the face of the Mind Flayer. 

The monster stared, almost as if surprised, and coiled in preparation for the final kill. The fanged tentacle in its mouth surged forward.

Max’s heart stopped in her chest.

But the limb didn’t meet its mark. The beast suddenly lurched and wailed, its teeth ripping violently from Billy’s body as if it was trying to escape some unseen force. It smashed against walls and railings, nearly hitting the young onlookers in the upper floors. Billy fell limply to the ground.

The Mind Flayer languished for a few moments before it went completely still.  
The food court was silent, the children shocked at what they had just witnessed. 

Max’s heart jumped to her throat. “Billy,” she breathed, and she ran, slamming to her knees at her brother’s side.

“Billy! Billy!” She cried, bringing her hands to either side of his face. 

The teen looked up at her with wide, fearful eyes. Black muck streamed from his mouth, and his chest rose with hitched breaths as he struggled to breathe. 

“M-Max,” he gasped.

“Oh God, Billy. It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” she whipped her head frantically around, “Help! Help please!” 

She locked eyes with El and Mike, who looked on in abject terror. “Please,” Max breathed.

Footsteps echoed as the others came down from the second level, skidding to a halt before the scene. 

“Holy shit,” Robin muttered, eyes roving over the corpse of the monster. 

”Dammit, Hargrove.” Steve fell to the ground beside Max, pressing his hands against the gaping wounds in Billy’s side. The teen writhed against the pain, but Steve held fast, “Put pressure on these,” he said, but upon Max’s shocked expression and tear stained cheeks, he looked to the others for help. 

The three older teenagers stepped up, Nancy pulling Max into her arms and Robin and Jonathan helping to staunch the flow of... whatever that black stuff was.

Billy cried out as they firmly applied pressure, and Steve removed the red scarf of his work uniform to use as a makeshift gauze. It bled through in seconds. 

“Hang in there, amigo,” he soothed, Max could see the panic on Steve’s bloodied face, “you got this.”

“Someone call an ambulance,” Jonathan ordered. 

Lucas nodded, clearly torn between staying with his sobbing girlfriend or getting help. But as he began to run for a pay phone, he heard voices.

“...Someone’s here.”  
____________________________________

Jim Hopper has had a pretty shitty day. 

His face throbbed, his body ached, and he’s pretty sure his facial hair got singed from the heat of the pulsing portal machine. The guilt of Alexei’s death still weighed heavily on his mind. 

But as they ran through the empty halls of the underground Russian hell-hole, he couldn’t help but feel relieved. The gate was closed, his daughter was safe (albeit injured), Joyce agreed to go on a real date with him, and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on a nice glass of Chianti (after a quick hospital visit of course) 

But his hopes were quickly dashed when they rounded the corner into the food court. 

“Someone’s here,” he heard an uncertain voice. 

“Sinclair?” He frowned. 

Joyce already jolted forward, horror dawning on her face. “Kids? Oh Hopper, I think they’re still here! Will! Jonathan!” 

The children were huddled together in the center of the room, a hulking mass of flesh sprawled out behind them. 

It was clear that the monster was dead. But when Jim didn’t immediately see Eleven, his blood ran cold. 

“Mom!” Will called out, crossing the distance as Joyce pulled her son into her embrace. “Mom, call an ambulance!” 

“Who? Who is it?” Jim demanded, his voice frantic as he ran closer, undoubtably assuming the worst. His eyes softened when he found El huddled against Mike on the ground staring up at him imploringly. She was shaking, her eyes glazed with tears. 

“He saved me.” El said, and Jim’s brain finally registered the source of all the commotion. 

Billy Hargrove was sprawled out, trembling and choking on what looked like black blood. His blue eyes were wide open and darting around as if looking for an escape. Tears tracked down his dirty face. 

He heard Joyce’s gasp behind him, and Murray’s mumbled, “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No. No ambulance.” Jim said as he took in the prone figure on the floor. He didn’t know much about the Hargrove boy. Only knew that he caused trouble. He knew that he whaled on Steve last year. Jim really didn’t like him for that reason, vividly remembering the drive to the hospital as Steve struggled to hang onto consciousness. 

But Jim could tell that Billy was a troubled boy. His father seemed to be a military type, maybe served in ‘nam like he did. He knew Max and Billy weren’t blood related. Knew they had a strained relationship. He could tell that their home life wasn’t normal. The few times he stopped the teenager on the road he was either drunk or bruised from what appeared to be a fist fight with one of his peers. But Jim knew better. Could see the absence of torn flesh on Billy’s knuckles. Could see the adult sized finger prints on his neck and wrists. Could see the defeated look in his eyes. 

Jim didn’t like Billy Hargrove, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave him to die. 

“Chief, he needs a hospital. Now.” Steve said, wincing as Billy let out a ragged sob. 

“Hop, what are you-“ 

He gently shushed Joyce, and knelt to the ground beside the injured teen. 

“Son?”

Billy’s eyes listed, and finally fell on Jim.

“There you go. Can you hear me?” Jim placed a hand on Billy’s arm. The kid nodded once. “Good. What’s your name?”

“Bi-Billy.” His breath stuttered, “Hargrove.” 

Jim nodded, giving his arm a squeeze before standing. He knew that Billy wouldn’t likely survive. But they couldn’t run the risk of taking him to a hospital. The doctors would take one look at the black substance and he’d be carted off to some government facility, probably never to be seen again.

“No hospitals.” He announced. There was a short wave of objections, but he shot them down quickly. “Too many eyes and ears. Besides, what do you think a hospital is going to do? Doctors couldn’t do shit helping Will last year.” He turned to Joyce, “you know what they’d do to him, Joyce. Owens can’t keep everyone safe.”

There was so much more left unsaid between the two adults, but Joyce nodded, resolute. She crouched down next to Billy’s head, and placed a soothing hand against his cheek. He leaned into her touch. “Our house. Can Owens-?”

“Maybe.” Jim interjected, “But let’s figure out how to get him there first.”

“I saw some supply vans out back,” Robin said, she stood to point, her hands slicked with black. “We could probably all pile in.” 

“Good idea,” Jim waved the kids away, and slid his arms underneath Billy’s form. There were so many wounds, especially towards his back. This wasn’t going to be comfortable. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?”

Billy huffed out a breath and grit his teeth, “Yeah.”

Jim hoisted the teen up (and damn if he wasn’t heavy) nearly buckling under his weight. Billy cried out as the movement jostled his wounds. Steve and Jonathan hovered by, uncertain if they should help. 

“Kid is solid, best if I take him for now.” Jim knew his aching body wouldn’t be thanking him in the morning, but they needed to move quickly before the military forces finally arrived. _Much too late,_ Jim thought. 

The Chief of Police took quick stock of the group. Most of them looked to be in relatively good shape, save for a smattering of bumps and bruises. Max and Mike had some nasty bruises on their faces, and Steve looked like he’d gone a couple rounds with a Demodog. He’d definitely need some patching up. And Jane...

“Take Jane,” he directed to Jonathan. His daughter immediately protested, but she changed her mind as she tried and failed to put weight on her torn leg. Jonathan pulled her onto his back, and she sagged against him. 

Jim’s uniform was almost immediately soaked through with blood, as he and and the rest of the group jogged to the back exit of the mall. 

Billy’s eyes fluttered, clouded with pain.

“Hang in there, kid.” Jim muttered. “Almost there.”

Robin guided them to a classic white Sprinter van. It was thankfully unlocked and gutted of all seats save for the front two. Jim laid Billy out on the floor of the van, and the rest piled in. Joyce and Max took residence by Billy’s side, and Jim and Murray moved to the front. 

Jim sighed as he went to start the engine. Damned van would have to be hot wired, and it was never as easy as the movies looked. After several minutes of trying and far too many curse words, the van started and they were finally on their way. 

The van was silent save for the constant purr of the engine and Billy’s occasional moans of pain. Joyce would shush him. Max would offer quiet assurances and draw in soft sobs. 

A few minutes passed and the sound of static filled the space. 

“-you copy?”

Murray scrambled for the walkie talkie at his waist, “Shit, forgot about the kids.” He brought the device to his mouth, “We copy, you kids okay?” 

“Yeah we’re okay, where are you guys? The military just flew over. Over.” Dustin’s voice sounded relieved.

“Driving to-“ 

Jim snatched the walkie talkie from Murray’s hands, and the man snorted in annoyance. 

“We’re on our way to the Byer’s house, we’ll come pick you up. Meet us at the edge of the road.” 

“Okay, over.” A pause, “Is everyone okay? Over.” 

Jim hesitated, “More or less. You’ll see when you get here.” 

“Is everyone alive?” Dustin’s fear was evident.

“Yes.”

“Okay. See you soon. Over.”

They spotted Dustin and Erica at the edge of the road just a few minutes later, both whole and exhausted. They gasped when the van doors opened. 

“Is that-?”

“Yes,” Steve knew he was one of the only people who could calm Dustin’s nerves. “And it’s okay. The Flayer’s dead.” 

“How do we know it isn’t still possessing him somehow?”

“We don’t.” Jim finally voiced what everyone was silently wondering. “We closed the gate. We made sure. The monster’s dead. But as we all know, shit can hit the fan at a moments notice.” He gripped the wheel tightly. “This is the only way we can control the situation if it gets out of hand.” 

Jonathan shuffled his hold on one of Billy’s more gruesome injuries, situated just below his rib cage. Black seeped between his fingers. His eyebrows were furrowed in a mixture of disgust and concern. “Uh, Chief? I know you said no hospitals, but we don’t really have much in the way of medical supplies at home. I don’t know if we can help him with how extensive these injuries are...”

“Murray will go looking for more supplies. We’ll get to the Byers’. We’ll call Sam. He’s the most capable of dealing with this kinda thing,” Hopper sped up a fraction. “I just need to make sure he can come alone.”

“I don’t like it,” Mike spoke up for the first time, the memory of Billy’s hands wrapped around El’s throat clearly still fresh in his mind. “Dustin’s right. We still don’t know if he’s free from the Mind Flayer.”

“I don’t feel him anymore, Mike.” Will intoned.

“So? Why’s he bleeding black goop then?” Mike motioned angrily at Billy’s writhing form on the floor. 

“Maybe his body is trying to clean itself,” El’s voice was nearly a whisper. She hadn’t let go of Billy’s other hand. 

“Like flushing out a poison?” Lucas asked.

“That would make sense.” Nancy mused, “The Flayed were all drinking chemicals.” 

“Chemicals?” This was the first Jim heard of it. “Judas Priest.” He feared more and more that Billy was beyond their ability to help. 

“What if the black blood coming out is a good thing?” Will said. 

Jonathan and Steve suddenly dropped their hands from their pressure points on Billy’s wounds. He keened at the release of pressure. 

“What makes you say that, baby?” Joyce asked, her voice sweet but tense. 

“Remember those slug things I puked up? And the one in El’s leg? Maybe it’s something like that. Like a toxin that needs to be let out, like she said,” He glanced at El. “Maybe it’s his body’s way of cleansing itself.” 

“There’s no way of knowing,” Jim huffed. “But what I do know is that the human body needs blood to survive. So whether it’s black or red or yellow sparkles, let’s keep it in his body for now until we have more answers.” He glanced pointedly at the teenage boys, who hesitantly placed their hands back on the wounds. 

They drove a few more minutes before finally pulling into the Byers’ driveway. 

Joyce hurried inside, Will and the Party (sans Max) hot on her heels to help prepare a place for Billy. Steve and Jonathan offered to take Billy in, grabbing him by the arms and legs and hobbling awkwardly towards the house. Max never left her brother’s side. 

Jim switched spots with Murray, and gave him directions the to the nearest pharmacy for more materials and medicine. They would all need a once over as soon as Billy was taken care of. 

Joyce cleared the kitchen table of everything save a small pillow for Billy to rest his head. Steve and Jonathan set him down carefully. Their clothes were now a filthy mess of black. Joyce handed Jonathan a pair of scissors and he quickly cut through the filthy fabric of Billy’s tank top, pulling the edges gently away from the stab wounds. It was a horrific sight. 

Joyce sent the younger children into the living room, but it didn’t help that the open concept allowed them full view of the kitchen table. Max continued her vigil at Billy’s side, wide-eyed and completely uncertain of what to do. Jim excused himself to make a call to Owens. 

“You okay, Billy?” Joyce asked, already knowing the answer.

“No.” He bit out, eyes sealed shut. It was a miracle he was still conscious. His breathing continued to hitch with every intake. 

“I’m so sorry, we’re going to do everything we can to fix you up.” She smoothed back his hair from his sweat slicked brow. He seemed to ease at the contact, a soft sigh escaping his lips. 

Joyce rifled through the first aid kit, in search of anything remotely useful. Jonathan and Nancy brought an armful of bedsheets, and they both along with Steve ripped them into long shreds. Robin began boiling a pot of water on the stovetop. The kitchen was bustling, but was somehow so quiet at the same time. It was unsettling. 

“Max?” He wheezed. She startled, moving closer and hesitantly placing her hands on his bicep. 

“Yes Billy?” Her voice was still raw from crying. 

“You okay, shitbird?” 

“Yes,” she breathed out a laugh, tears threatening to fall again, “I’m okay. But you aren’t you asshole.”

“Kinda deserve it, though.” He coughed, black speckling his lips. 

“Please don’t say that.” She whispered. There was nothing teasing in her tone. 

More coughs racked his body, bringing up more and more blood each time. “Hurts.” His head lolled to the side. He looked on the verge of passing out. 

“I know, kid, just stay awake a little longer.” Jim rounded the corner, and he couldn’t help but he reminded of his Sara. Blue eyes once so vibrant, but dulled by pain and exhaustion. 

“Any luck?” Joyce asked.

“He’ll be here in an hour. He’s gotta clear up some things at the mall first.”

Joyce nodded, less than satisfied. Billy may not have an hour. 

“Got any alcohol?” Jim ripped a strip of fabric with his teeth. 

“Now’s really not the time, Hop.” Joyce hissed, looking visibly excited when she found a small suture kit buried deep in the bag. 

“Not for me, hell, Joyce,” He mumbled. “For the kid.” 

Realization dawned on her face, “Oh.” 

She hurried to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Vodka. 

“On second thought,” he snatched the bottle from Joyce, taking a swig despite her scoff of disapproval. The burn soothes his nerves. 

“Want a drink before we start?” He held the bottle in Billy’s line of sight. The teen cracked his eyes open. 

“Don’t think I can keep it down.” His voice was barely above a whisper. But it was better than nothing. He needed to stay awake. 

“If you’re sure,” Hopper took another swig. “This is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“Always does.” 

Hopper froze at Billy’s words, certain he didn’t want to know the implications behind them. He braved a glance at Max, who stared stormily at a knot in the wood of the table. 

Robin brought the boiling water over, setting it on a chair and huddling close to Steve. Jonathan and Nancy stood by, hands loosely clasped.

“What can we do?” Steve asked, always the responsible one. 

Hopper’s gaze met the young adults’, all who clearly would rather be anywhere else than at Billy Hargrove’s sickbed. But there was a fire in their eyes and Hopper could tell that despite their disdain for their violent schoolmate, they truly wanted to help him. 

“Hold him down.” 

So they did, the girls moving to hold his arms, and the boys his legs. Max stood by his head, threading her fingers through his hair. 

Joyce worries her lip, “Max, honey, are you sure you want to-?” 

“I’m staying.” Her eyes were like steel. 

Hopper stood over Billy, Vodka in hand. The holes in his body were so bounteous, he didn’t even know where to begin. 

“Shit, just get it over with, Chief.” He mumbled, his hands were closed into fists at his side, eyes shut tight. Hopper tried to ignore the puddle of blood growing out beneath him and dripping down to the floor. 

He poured the Vodka into the first wound, close to Billy’s navel. 

Hopper knew to expect sounds of discomfort. Even screaming. But what he didn’t expect was the _bubbling_ of the black blood, as if it were set over a blue flame. 

Then the screaming began.


	3. Chapter 3

Billy’s eyes rolled back into his head, his screams escalating as he thrashed and bucked against those holding him down. 

“Shit he’s strong!” Steve exclaimed over Billy’s cries. He and Jonathan leaned over his legs, trying with no avail to keep them down. 

Nancy and Robin were thrown back from their place at his arms, Nancy falling to the ground and Robin crashing against the wall. Hopper and Joyce immediately took their places, pinning Billy’s flailing arms back down. But it was short lived, the kid was so strong it was inhuman. His blood continued to _literally boil._ The adults made eye contact. This was _wrong._

The younger kids ran into the kitchen, terrified and unsure of what to do. 

“What’s wrong with him?!” Max screamed, hands scrambling against her brother’s head, trying to calm him. 

Jim leaned his full weight over Billy’s torso, trying to keep him from hurting himself further. It was fruitless however, as the teen threw Jim bodily several feet across the room. It was like watching a pro wrestler flinging a 3 year old. It was unearthly. 

Jim stumbled to his feet, Joyce and El calling his name over the commotion. 

“We need to sedate him!” He demanded.

“We don’t have anything!” Joyce yelled, eyes nearly popping out of her head. 

Jim grabbed the pot of now luke-warm water Robin had prepared, and dumped it onto the floor with a splash. He raised it above his head.

“Wait!” Joyce grabbed his wrist before he could swing. “You can’t just knock him out!” 

“What other choice do I have?!” Jim was just realizing how extreme his reaction might have been, but Billy’s screams were getting louder (how was that possible?!) and he was going to seriously hurt himself or someone else if he wasn’t stopped. 

“Let me!” El’s voice was commanding. Powerful. She reached for her father’s hand, lowering it to his side. “Let me.”

Hopper wanted to protest. Wanted to scream and yell and curse and say “no I need you safe.” He wanted this whole shit-show to be over with already. But he trusted his daughter. He trusted her implicitly. 

He nodded, and she stepped up calmly to the table, careful to avoid Billy’s arms. She stood at his head, giving a small smile to Max who was shaking, her eyes glossy.

El placed her hand against Billy’s cheek, and the boy immediately calmed, eyes locking onto hers. 

Hopper didn’t understand why or how. As far as he knew, El had lost her powers and there was no resurgence in sight. But as he watched the interaction, he couldn’t help but feel like there was a connection between Eleven and Billy. Clearly something more had happened at Starcourt that night. 

“It’s okay, Billy.” Eleven whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Billy sobbed, “I d-don’t think I am.”

El glanced at Hopper, “Yes you are. I promise. We’re going to take care of you.”

“You can’t trust me.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yes we can,” She reassured him, tears prickling her eyes. “You stopped him. He’s gone. The Shadow is gone.”

“No he’s not.”

“...What?” 

“You should’ve let me die.” Billy shook his head from side to side, his cries nearly drowning out his words. 

“Billy-“

“You should’ve let me die. YOU SHOULD’VE LET ME DIE!” He raised his head, breaking from her hold. She jolted back as if she’d been shocked, face contorted in fear. “LET ME DIE! LET ME DIE! PLEASE LET ME DIE!” 

The group watched on in mounting terror as Billy screamed. In the corner of the room, Will brought his hand to the nape of his neck.

“No...” he breathed. It was impossible. 

The lights in the house flickered. 

“No no no...” Will cried.

Joyce brought her hands to Will’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?!” 

“He’s still here! The Mind Flayer, I-I don’t understand!”

“What?”

“Billy!”

Then the room erupted into chaos. 

Billy flew from the table with a yell, immediately going for El. She screamed, stumbling and falling in an attempt to get away. 

Jim moved quickly, bodily tackling Billy to the ground. “No way you son of a bitch,” He growled. He watched as the last fragments of Billy’s awareness were overtaken by darkness and anger. 

The scuffle between the two men was short-lived, as Billy threw Jim into the wall. He rose much too quickly to his feet, meeting the police chief before he could stand.

Billy’s hand wrapped around Jim’s throat and lifted him high into the air. The world froze.

“You have no power over us.” Billy’s voice echoed with a sinister calm. He was practically unrecognizable, a dark cold taking over him completely. A trail of black blood dribbled from his nose. The Mind Flayer was in full control.

Jim gagged in his hold, hands scrambling for escape. He could hardly hear the sounds of begging in the background, his vision beginning to haze.

Suddenly, the pressure on his throat released and he fell to the ground in a heap. 

Billy had been dropped by a tangle of teenagers, all bearing down on him with their fists alone. Joyce came to his side and pulled him up, eyes raking over him in concern. Will was clinging to her side. 

“Oh my god, Jim, what are we going to do?!” He looked over to see Steve, Jonathan, Mike and Lucas practically suffocating Billy, trying to keep him down. But it was fruitless. Billy was possessed by the Mind Flayer, and no earthly power could stop him for long. 

Jim itched for a gun. A bullet between the eyes would end this in a heartbeat. But there was no knowing if Billy would dissolve into a new flesh monster. And even if he didn’t, Jim couldn’t imagine taking Billy’s life. He was only 18. He was practically a child. 

A thought entered his mind, filling him with a sudden focused energy. “Shower.” He blurted. Joyce looked at him, confused. “Joyce, start a shower!”

Joyce blinked as she realized his intent, “That won’t be hot enough!” 

“Do it!” He barked, then he whirled on the other teens, “Blowtorch, get one!”

They nodded, and ran off. He could hear the shower start in the bathroom close by. 

Hopper fell into the fray, grabbing at Billy’s arms and pulling them behind his back. The kid was so strong, it was nearly impossible to get him into his feet. Billy kicked and thrashed and yelled in that awful demonic voice, but the 5 males were able to restrain him somewhat, and lead him stumbling down the hall into the bathroom. 

Joyce was there, steam filling the room with the spray of the shower. The tub half full with hot water. Jim held Billy by the back of the neck, and threw him down into the tub. He winced as Billy’s head cracked hard against the tile. But he still wasn’t subdued. 

Billy tore at the shower curtain, ripping the rod from the wall and hurling it towards the group. The ragged end caught Steve in the face, tearing a nasty gash into his jaw. 

The group surged forward, grabbing the possessed teen and holding him under the water. It took everything in them to keep him from escaping. They slid on the water-slick floor, Billy screaming, the lights flashing and whirring with pent up energy. Everyone restraining him was soaked to the bone, skin red from the intense heat. 

Billy’s strength only slightly abated, the heat of the water draining him, if only a little. His muscles tensed as he struggled against the hands holding him down. Black blood dripped from his nose, ears, mouth, and even his eyes. It was horrific. 

Nancy and Robin ran in, blowtorch in hand. Nancy lit it, handing it to Hopper.

“I’m sorry about this, kid.” Hopper muttered, kneeling in the puddle of water on the floor. He brought the blue flame to Billy’s side.

At first, Billy didn’t make a sound. But then he threw his head back and wailed. The lights flared more intensely, buzzing loudly until the bulbs burst altogether, bathing them in only the soft glow of the torch. 

“You’re going to kill him!” Max screamed.

“We have to get this thing out of him, or he will die.” Jim yelled, his voice raw. He pressed the flame deeper into Billy’s side. Sometime in the confusion someone brought a flashlight, illuminating the barbarity of the scene. 

Billy’s cries were cut off by a harsh cough, which brought up an unhealthy amount of dark blood. The coughs continued, which quickly turned into hacking. 

“Roll him over!” 

They pushed him onto his side, Jim shutting off the flame and dropping it to the floor. 

Billy hacked and choked, an endless stream of blood falling from his lips, until one particularly violent cough brought up an awful glob of black.

It squelched onto the floor, squirming and writhing. A mini slug version of the monster. 

Jim raised his foot, and slammed it against the creature. And then he did it again. And again. And again. Then for good measure he lit the torch and held it against its rotted remains. 

It sizzled and stilled.

Heavy breaths filled the room, an uneasy silence settling. The shower was still running, Billy laying under the stream. His eyes were closed.

They watched as the black of his blood turned to red.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review! I love hearing your ideas and comments!


End file.
